


57. An End to Italy

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [57]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for heavy verbal humiliation, con-non-con, anal play, mention of piss play</p>
    </blockquote>





	57. An End to Italy

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for heavy verbal humiliation, con-non-con, anal play, mention of piss play

It's been an amazing two weeks in Italy, their time together here far surpassing any expectations Antony might have had. And now, looking out over the water from their resort above, the sun setting, boats sparkling in the distance, he can't help but think they've found the perfect ending to an almost perfect vacation. "To us," Antony toasts, raising his glass to Stephen with a smile. "And coming back."

"To us, and to the first of many Italian adventures," Stephen returns, tilting his glass against Antony's. Not even that first trip to Fiji comes close to being as perfect as this vacation. "You'll have to keep teaching me the language, at least beyond 'Ti amo'," Stephen adds, taking a sip of his wine, blue eyes dancing in amusement.

"I'll have you talking like a native by the time we return," Antony says, taking a drink, a warm soft breeze swirling around them on the restaurant terrace. "Any other languages you want to learn? You've certainly charmed Louis with your French."

Shaking his head, Stephen swallows his wine. "No, one at a time," he laughs. "And the French is easy, I grew up with it, my parents are bilingual and they made sure I learnt both as I grew up." He sets his glass down and leans in. "And at some point I still want to do a really nasty scene with you speaking nothing but Russian," he winks and sets his chin in his palm.

Antony nods. "We can do that. When I get back from this next job. Although if you want really nasty, we should do it at the gym instead of the club." Or one of his warehouses. Christ.

He can see his words have had an effect on his lover. "It's not all about what I want," he points out. "But yeah, really nasty, and done just as I start my next break - so you can really damage me if you want to," and if Stephen's own voice has gotten a little rougher - he won't deny it. "I don't think the Club would be suitable."

"I know it's not," Antony says, nodding his thanks at their server as he delivers their appetizers. "But going that far with you, I want to make sure we're on the same page."

"Yeah, this is one time I'd like to negotiate with you - to a point," Stephen's very aware he gave up his safe word, and that normally he accepts whatever Antony wants to do with him - but this is a step further. "Simply so we don't fuck up over a misstep." He glances down at his antipasti. "Isn't now as good a time as any? No head space, no pressure?"

"It works for me," Antony says with a smile. "Do you want a safeword for this? Do you think you'd be able to come up with it if needed?"

Rolling some parma ham around an olive Stephen shakes his head. "No, and no, I struggled before the collar, now? The way I go under, it would dangerous to rely on that," he pauses, the food halfway to his mouth. "I know that puts the onus back on you again, and means you have to keep a certain level of awareness, it's just not something I think we should risk."

Antony nods. "I'm fine with that. To be honest, I'm more comfortable relying on my assessment of you than waiting for you to come up with a word and wondering if you're aware enough to do it."

Stephen waits until he's swallowed before replying. "Works for me." He pauses here and adds a little more softly, "After all, you've the experience in doing actual harm to people right?" And he looks up to meet Antony's gaze. He's been doing a lot of thinking since their talk in Pompeii, finally joining up a few dots, making sense of little bits of information that he'd deliberately ignored.

Antony's quiet for a moment, just watching Stephen, before he nods again. "It's not usually sexual, and it's not something I do on a regular basis, but yes. I've got the experience and I know how to assess where someone's at - both physically and mentally."

The corner of Stephen's mouth kicks up. "Not usually sexual?" he reaches out with his foot and nudges Antony's. "I never imagined it was." _Apart from Ian, Ian's a given,_ he thinks. "Thank you for not brushing that off."

Antony shrugs a little. "I try to be as honest as I can with you, inside the parameters we've set up on that," he clarifies. And they both know he's only talking about work. Anything else and he's an open book. The only problem is there's almost nothing else. There's work and there's Stephen and Antony's devotion to both leaves little room for other stuff.

"I know, and I appreciate that," Stephen reaches out to take Antony's hand. "I love you, you're a complex man, and whatever your secrets are....I'm sure I see enough of the real you to know you're a good man, with a good heart."

"I'm glad you think so," Antony says, raising Stephen's fingers to his mouth, his lips brushed across them. "So? Negotiations. Nothing permanent, nothing that puts you out of commission for too long..." he trails off, waiting for Stephen to fill in the rest.

Antony's reply gives Stephen some pause. It's as if his lover doesn't necessarily agree with him and the almost immediate redirection confirms Stephen's suspicions that Antony wants that subject left alone - at least for now. "No broken bones, but superficial bruises, cuts, grazes that's all on the table of course. Nothing that will last beyond a couple of weeks. You can have my face. The rest? My ass, my mind...that's yours to push as hard as you see fit."

"What about the end goal of the scene?" Antony asks, carefully absorbing each and every one of his boy's stipulations. "Do you want some piece of information or something that I'm trying to get out of you? Or do you want to just leave it a general you're in shit for something?"

"I think I'd like to have some info you want, I'd like to see the effect of having to be a little more present might have on my head space, and see how long I might hold out." He shrugs. "I might not last five minutes, so we'd need a backup plan, or just switch to punishing me for something," Stephen grins. "I am under no illusions about how wicked you can be."

Antony grins back, eyes crinkling at their corners. "It's true. I am a world-class sadist and incredibly inventive to boot. Aren't you lucky?"

"Lucky? I'm blessed, and I count those blessings every damned day," Stephen admits, he's not a religious man, but he does believe in a higher power of sorts. "World Class huh? I should pimp you out - hasn't Louis tried?" he winks.

That gets a laugh. "He's tried to get me involved with training a few times, but I've been too busy," Antony says, sitting back as their server quietly removes their empty plates. "And of course, I wouldn't be interested now."

"No? You could do some when you're home and I'm working," Stephen shrugs. "Shame to keep all that talent just to little 'ol me."

"I like keeping it for you," Antony says with a smile. "But maybe someday. When I retire." He grins.

"Retire?" Stephen's brows shoot up. "Huh, I guess you could," he nods, and busies himself with topping up both their wine glasses.

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon," Antony clarifies. "But I have been thinking about it, whereas at one point I wouldn't have ever expected to." Would have expected his work to be the end of him eventually.

"Because of me?" But Stephen knows the answer to that - because Antony had already promised to cut back on the number of jobs he takes.

"Yes." Antony answers simply, honestly. "You make me realize there's more to life than work, than constantly being on the move."

"But I can't be your all, can I? That's not healthy, and it's not you," Stephen leans back in his seat, his drink in his hand. "You'd need something to keep you out of trouble," he smirks a little here. "Something above board and safe anyway."

"I have lots of smaller, safer interests, still connected with my work but not so... out there," Antony says. Not so dangerous. "And there's the gym. I could always open it back up. Train people. Or take Louis up on his offer." He smiles at Stephen. "Don't worry. You won't end up with some boring house husband. I'll keep myself busy."

"A house husband?" Stephen laughs at that, but here is a perfect example of why he adores this man so much. No ego, no BS, he's as content taking care of their home while he, Stephen, is at work, as he is off on one of his jobs. "I think the gym would be cool, there are a couple of directions you could take that in."

Antony nods. "I could stay a partner in the company, hand over the reins to Marcus and just work on training our people," he says. "Or I could open it up to the public. Just putter around. It's not like I need the money."

"Do the former - you still get to work with Marcus, which I'm assuming is something you'd both prefer and you get to keep your hand in a little," Stephen watches his lover for a moment before adding, "And this is a little out there as an idea, but I think you'd be perfect to work with young kids, teenagers, the sort that are getting themselves into trouble, I've heard of a few programmes where boxing or similar is used as a way to focus their energy and keep them out of trouble, and it's not like they'd ever get one over on you is it?"

The suggestion takes Antony by surprise. "That could be interesting," he says slowly, mulling it over. "You really think I'd be good with kids?" Not that he isn't good with his nieces but girls, little girls, are one thing. Bring them a few toys and be willing to chase them around the yard before sitting down to a tea party and you're the greatest uncle ever. But teenagers? Sullen and unruly and looking to escape in the first fucking place?

"Well most often they aren't kids are they? They're young people, teenagers, and I don't see that you'd speak down to them, treat them like they were children. I think your innate dominance, the confidence you have in your own abilities would make you someone who they could respond to. I just feel it's something you could do, there must be out reach programmes, law enforcement people who do these kind of things." Stephen picks up his glass. "And if some little fucker came in with a knife or gun...it's not gonna freak you out."

"True." Antony nods, the idea seeming more and more appealing. "We might even end up with some potential employees in the older ones."

"You never know," Stephen grins over the rim of his glass. "You'd be home, you'd be busy, and you'd be doing something really positive."

"It's a great idea," Antony says with a smile, sipping at his wine, "but I don't think I'm ready to go there just yet. Maybe another three, four years. Get this new guy up to speed, Marcus used to the idea, make sure we have a full backup crew in place..."

"Whenever you're ready Tony, you know how I feel, you keep coming home in one piece and I'll deal with the absences," Stephen smiles at his lover.

"Speaking of which," Antony says, pausing as their actual entrees are delivered to the table, the smell causing his stomach to rumble despite the food he's already eaten. "Marcus texted and he needs me to join him a little earlier on this next job. I told him I could be there Tuesday."

Stephen looks up from his plate at that. "Oh." He's not thrilled, but then he has just had two whole weeks of his lover all to himself. "How long will you be away for now?"

"I'll try and keep it to a week, ten days at the most," Antony says, cutting into his steak. "I've been dealing with the guys over there for a long time and while they're okay with Marcus, they're not okay with Rhys, so it's better if I head over, at least smooth things out and be there for a bit til they're used to him."

"Okay," Stephen nods, picking up his silverware, he starts in on his tagliatelle. "Just let me know if anything changes." Which of course Antony always does. "I'll see if I tempt Katie or David out to dinner or a movie while you're gone." He's made a decision recently that he has to make a life of his own when Antony's away, and not live like he's 'on hold' - waiting for his lover and Sir to come home, something he's very aware he'd been doing.

"That sounds like a good idea. Just don't take them to anything we want to see." Antony grins.

"Hey, s'not my fault you're away so much," Stephen winks over his loaded fork. "Anyway I've got plenty to keep me busy, I've an interview and photoshoot lined up while you're gone as well as work - and an online fan forum thing I said I'd do."

"Another Q&A?" Antony asks, reaching for a piece of bread.

"Yeah, they're fun and really popular with the fans," Stephen nods, setting his cutlery down in favour of his wine glass - tonight's the last time he'll let himself indulge - and he's making the most of it.

"They're really popular with me too," Antony grins, mopping up the juices from his steak and buttered asparagus with the bread. "You do a great job with them."

"And I dodge the 'who're you dating' questions with skill," Stephen snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Just tell them you're too busy hitting the gym when you're not working," Antony suggests with a laugh. "They wouldn't dare question it after watching you on the salmon ladder."

"I totally fucking rock that shit huh?" Stephen reaches for the wine bottle again, tops up his glass and waves it in his lover's direction. "Now look at that! All gone!" he teases.

Antony laughs. "You want more?" he asks, already moving to call their waiter over. It's their last night in Italy, there's no reason they shouldn't let loose.

"Oh yes, lots more," Stephen nods, returning his attention to the remains of his pasta. Then it occurs to him that maybe Antony had plans for later. "Oh, unless....you know, you wanted to scene later on?" It's been a good few days since he was on his knees; the sex has been frequent but almost vanilla - by necessity, quiet and discreet.

"I wasn't planning on it but they do have an amazing dungeon here..." Antony sits back for a moment, contemplating the options.

"Well...then it's your choice if and or how much more I drink," Stephen points out. "Sober or wasted, it's your call."

Antony looks at Stephen. "A couple of waters, please," he tells their waiter.

Stephen quirks a brow. He'd wanted to drink - but he also wants to play. That urge is there too, that little almost self destructive voice that appears every so often that makes him want to push his Sir - wants to goad him. Only the last time he allowed it to dictate his behaviour - he'd been punished, and that? That still stings. Even so - he still picks up his wine glass...and holding his lover's, his Sir's, gaze, he swallows it all.

"You're the one who put the idea in my head," Antony points out with a small smile, his eyes sparkling.

Putting his glass aside, Stephen nudges his plate away too. He considers his next move - simply pushing, goading Antony doesn't work - it derails their vibe and forces his Sir to punish him - so the better option, albeit 'negotiated' and therefore less spontaneous - is to simply request that his head space is taken into account. "Then this pig would very much like his Owner to put him in his place hard, and allow this pig an opportunity to sass and fight back a little until he's suitably subjugated. This pig craves his Owner humiliate him." Stephen holds that wicked blue gaze as he speaks, his tone low and soft, belying his words.

Fuck. Antony drains his own wineglass and pulls out his phone. "This is Antony Starr. I'd like to know whether any of the cells are available? Yeah. One of the padded ones? Good. Yes, please, and that's fine. We'll be there in about five minutes." That done, he smiles at their server, who's returned with their waters. "Change of plans, but thank you," a couple of bills pressed into the man's hand. "We're done for now." His attention turned back to his boy. "Ready?"

Stephen's attention is for his Sir alone, he pays the waiter no mind whatsoever. However rude that might be, it's just how his head space has manifested. "Yes Sir," he nods, slipping from his chair he waits for Antony to lead the way. The thought of a cell - a fucking hot one.

Antony walks them back into the main building - built on the remains of a centuries old castle. He leads the way down a long hall and then down an even longer staircase to the dungeon, with its only slightest of nods to modern amenities and signs in with the man waiting at the bottom.

"That'll be cell 3, Mr. Starr," the guy says with a smile, looking far too young and wide-eyed to have been at this for long. "Any special requests?"

"No, we're good," Antony answers, taking the proffered key and leading Stephen deeper into the dungeon.

Stephen finds himself tensing up the further down they go - it's a real fucking dungeon and he can't help the shivers of anticipation. What's also adding to his tension are the vibes rolling off his lover, his Sir. He can't take his eyes off him.

"This is us," Antony says, stopping in front of cell 3. He opens the door and gestures for Stephen to enter, closing it behind them, the window in the door shut tight as well. He's not big on audiences. Not unless he sets out to have one. The cell inside is surprisingly large but dim, barely lit, and he turns up the lights just enough to suit his needs. The walls are padded three-quarters of the way up, the floors even more thickly. Chains hang from the ceilings but they've been knotted and moved out of the way. "There's a cupboard with water and blankets," he says, nodding towards the obvious break in the padding on one wall, already slipping his suit jacket from his shoulders. "So we can stay down here for a bit after if we need to."

 _If we need to..._ Implies that Antony's expecting Stephen to go down, and go down hard. He nods, scanning the room. "Do you want me to strip?" he throws Antony a look over his shoulder.

"If you care about your clothes," Antony responds with a grin, slipping out of his shoes.

"Fair enough," Stephen nods and starts pulling his clothes off, folding them neatly and setting them in a pile beside the door. Then he straightens up, and adjusts his collar so it sits neatly around his throat.

Antony strips down as well, his shirt and trousers set with his jacket. He rolls his shoulders out, feeling his back crack and looks at his boy. Stephen. "So. You're feeling a little restless tonight?" he says, slowly moving along the perimeter of the room.

Without thinking Stephen mirrors Antony's movements, watchful, alert. "Yes, I guess," he allows. "More often than not I give it up, it's like the lights going out, sometimes, sometimes it tastes sweeter when you've fought me for it."

"When I've forced you down," Antony says, his arousal already evident. "Put you in your place."

"My place?" The sass is back - they both know it's Stephen's place...but... "What makes you think it's my place?" he demands, his own dick thickening too, the sight of his Sir...all male, hard.

"Because I know you," Antony returns, a small smile curving his lips. "I know you're nothing but a pig at heart, a slut, a hole to be used and fucked..."

"A pig..." Stephen pretends to muse, " _A_ pig, anyone's slut? A hole for any man?" he taunts his Sir. "Is that what I am?"

"Not for any man." Antony shakes his head, slowly closing the distance between them. "For me. You're mine. Your cock, your cunt, every fucking inch of you..."

Stephen doesn't back up, he wants this, he wants to feel Antony's body slamming into him, he wants to feel hands hurting and loving him. He wants to have his Sir take what he owns. "Then take it, take what you own, show this pig that he is everything and nothing to you..." He braces himself - his heart hammering as he meets Antony's steely gaze.

And just like that Antony reaches out and slaps Stephen, right across the face, not hard enough to leave any real mark, but enough to make his boy take notice. "Take it?" He follows up with a shove to Stephen's chest, both hands planted hard. "It's already mine, _boy_."

The slap has Stephen reeling, they rarely indulge in face hitting - purely because of work - but it does more than make Stephen's head spin; it has his whole body responding. His cock kicks up, rock hard in a moment, and his pupils dilate - then comes the shove and he stumbles backward. Shaking his head he tilts his chin up - "Prove it." He's goading, not because he doesn't want to go down, to kneel to totally submit - it's because he wants to feel Antony assert himself in a very overt fashion.

Prove it? Antony's hot on Stephen's heels, pushing him again, making sure his boy's already unsteady before he swipes his feet right out from under him. Following him to the floor, one arm twisted behind his back. "Prove it?" he grates out, his cock pressed between his boy's cheeks. "You're mine. My bitch, my cunt, my fucking hole to breed..."

He forgets how quick Antony is - that this is his job, and unlike Stephen he doesn't play at it. Skin on skin, his blood pounding hard in his ears, pain radiating up from his shoulder. "Say it again..." he pleads, "Say it again."

"Say what?" Antony murmurs, breath hot against Stephen's ear. So fucking aroused it takes every last bit of focus he can summon to get out, "That you're mine. My boy, my fuck toy, my pig, my cunt... That you belong to me," a cant of his hips pressing his cock even more firmly against Stephen's hole. "That I _own_ you and you're nothing but a hole to be used, fucked, torn open..."

His head buzzing with the haze of subspace, Stephen nods, unaware his eyes are wet - "That, all that, only that..." he rambles. "Yours only ever yours, made for you..." He bears down, even though on some level he knows he can't take Antony without lube. "This boy is nothing, nothing..."

"That's right. /Nothing/." Antony releases his hold on Stephen's arm and pushes back, up off his boy. "Get that cunt in the air, pig."

The insults, the degrading names, they all rattle around in his head, the tone of his owner's voice, so dismissive and full of contempt. Stephen whimpers, his body reacting as it always does, his dick is hard, his skin flushed, his breath ragged as he simply... _wants_. Wants to be broken. Wants to be used. Wants to be taken apart. So he tilts his ass up, begging like a greedy whore.

"You can do better than that," Antony growls as he rises and grabs some lube. "Get that cunt up there, bitch. Show me what's mine," he demands, slicking his fingers.

Face turned into the mat, his weight pushed down, Stephen reaches back, digging his fingers into his buttocks he spreads his cheeks as wide as he can, exposing himself fully. "Please..please use this pig," he begs. "Breed him please..."

"You sure deserve that?" Antony says, sliding two fingers inside Stephen and crooking them so he can lift his boy even higher. Hoist him up by his cunt. "My cock inside your dirty nasty pig hole."

Stephen's sobbing outright now - in desperate need. "P..pplease...s'all this...p...pig is good f...for," he stutters out. "Owner's..c.cum dump...please..." he's bearing down too, making his hole flutter and flare around those wicked fingers.

Antony smiles, the words going straight to that deepest darkest part of him, the part that _revels_ in debasing his boy, in stripping him down to tears and sheer desperation. He fucks his fingers in and out of that hole, stretching them wide so he can see the wet pink flesh inside. "You're a worthless piece of shit," he says quietly. "No good for anything other than taking my piss and my come..."

"Yes...just hole, just a hole..." _Worthless piece of shit..._ , the way his Sir says the words cut right through Stephen...so matter of fact - so very true in the moment. His head's thick with subspace, all he's aware of is the pull on his hole, his own breath, wet and hot against the plastic matting, his face damp from tears, and the heavy breathing of his own aroused Sir somewhere behind him.

If they weren't leaving Italy the next day, Antony would be tempted to push even further, harder, hurt his boy more, but as it is, they are and Stephen has a long flight to sit through before they're home. He pulls his fingers free, slicks his cock with what's left of the lube and kneels behind his boy, crown fit to that still-gaping pucker as he slowly but firmly pushes in.

Stephen exhales in relief as he feels the spongy thick head of his Sir's cock pressing into him. Like his very existence relied on him being used, being fucked, being abused by this man. He releases his hold on his ass, his hands coming down to press palm flat to the floor allowing himself leverage to push back.

"There you go," Antony murmurs on a low groan, feeling Stephen's relief. "That's what you need, isn't it? What you were _made_ for." His cock pushed all the way in, balls deep, before he pulls out and shoves in again.

"Yes Sir," Stephen slurs, "Your pig..." he groans as he's filled, his Sir consumes him so perfectly - fills and fits him like no one else ever has, ever will.

Spreading Stephen's cheeks with his hands, Antony fucks him slowly, deeply, every stroke long and hard, his cock throbbing at the slick tight heat. At the perfect clench of his boy's body. "My pig, my cunt. I'm gonna breed you, boy. Let you have every last fucking drop..."

"Yes...yes please..please..." Stephen's own dick is dripping a clear string of precum from the tip to the floor, his balls are high and tight, his skin hypersensitive to every movement of the man behind him. Sweat, tears, drool...smeared beneath his cheek as he shifts with each thrust.

But Antony takes his time, pulling out and driving back in again and again, his possession, his _ownership_ , underscored with every thrust. Fingers digging deep into his boy's skin as he holds him in place. _Mine._ "Nothing but a fucking hole for me..."

Stephen takes it, takes it all, loses himself in his debasement, his objectification, becoming nothing but a vessel for his Sir's pleasure. Soft noises spill from his mouth, pathetic mewling noises, whimpers, each a gift to his Sir.

"Fuck." Antony stills for a moment, cock throbbing inside his boy. His control just barely there. He bites at his bottom lip, attempting to pull back, but it feels too good... "Here it comes," he growls, snapping his hips instead and chasing after it, fucking Stephen hard and fast until he shouts out his pleasure, spurt after heated spurt flooding _his_ hole. His fuck toy.

When his Sir is done, when he finally stills, hips flush against his bruised ass, Stephen's sobbing in earnest. His whole body is trembling - from an endorphin storm, from subspace, from the sexual tension coiled tight at the base of his spine. He's broken, the pieces of him shattered beneath his Sir's loving care.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, running his hands gently over Stephen's flanks. He reaches under him, wrapping his fingers around his boy's still-stiff cock and strokes. "I want you to come for me."

All he needed was permission, he didn't even need those knowing fingers, that caress. Moments later Stephen is shuddering as his cock spills slick spurts of semen over his Sir's hand.

"That's it. Good boy," Antony praises, rocking in a last few times before he eases out and moves to the side, pulling Stephen down to the mat with him and into his arms.

Stephen's hands find a hold and his fingers close tight on Antony's skin, bruisingly tight, like he's scared if he lets go he'll lose himself. He sucks in shuddering breaths as he lets the tears come - crying out the last of his release - all the tension washed away until there is nothing left but a quiet stillness - peace.

Antony just holds him. Hugs Stephen close and runs a hand over his skin, soothing, soft words of love and praise murmured, the tone more important than anything else. "My good boy," he whispers when Stephen quiets, when the fingers clutching at his skin finally ease their grip. "I love you so much."

Stephen presses his mouth to his Sir's skin, and inhales through his nose, the scent of his man, all musky male, sex, pheromones and power. _I love you, with every fibre of my being, I love you._

Antony hugs Stephen even closer, smiling and kissing the top of his head. He keeps his body wrapped around his boy's, knowing that Stephen tends to get cold after they scene like this. There are blankets nearby but he's damned if he wants to let go. These moments of quiet perfect peace are ones he treasures.


End file.
